To Sir with love, undead edition
by duchessofdisaster
Summary: Alaric has work to do. Damon has Alaric to do. PWP oneshot for Saltzatore.


**Disclaimer: **The Vampire Diaries does not belong to me. If it did, Alaric would walk around shirtless with his pants hanging open most of the time.**  
>Warnings: <strong>PWP**  
>AN: **Saltzatore made this request, bless her. Yes, m'dear, we should prompt each other more often.

Alaric sits at the desk in his classroom, a stack of ungraded papers in front of him, wishing he could cap essay lengths to five hundred words and wondering how long it's going to take him to get through them all. He likes the teaching part of teaching – it's all the grading that bores him to tears. He pours himself another cup of strong coffee from his thermos and groans, rubbing his temples.

Damon moves very quietly, when he wants to, and Alaric hasn't seem him slip through the classroom door.

"Hello, Mr Saltzman," he purrs, sitting at a desk in the middle of the room, startling Alaric from his task.

"Damon?" Alaric asks, incredulous. "What are you doing here?"

"Right now, I'm trying to come up with a really dirty teacher joke. I've got words like detention and examination and extra credit all floating around in my head, but I'm not getting anywhere with them." Lazily, Damon places his feet on the desk, crossed at the ankles, and puts his hands behind his head. "If you've got any ideas…?"

Alaric chuckles, returning to the paper in front of him. "I'll let you know," he says. "Meanwhile…" taps the end of his pen against the paper.

Damon groans. "Really? Faced with the choice between bending me over that desk and reading that huge pile of papers, you're choosing the papers?" Shakes his head, mock-serious.

"Not exactly a choice. I have a job, Damon. Remember?"

Damon drops his feet to the ground, elegant as a cat, peering at Alaric from under heavy eyelids with a wicked smile playing across his lips. "So if you had a choice…?"

"Go away, Damon." Alaric tries to keep his features neutral, knows the smallest smile will be taken as encouragement. "Distracting me won't get this finished any quicker." He turns a page over and goes back to making corrections.

Damon makes an irritated noise in his throat, and the next thing Alaric knows, cool fingers are working their way down his neck, slipping beneath the collar of his shirt, undoing the top button, fingers running over his chest, playing gently with one very responsive nipple.

"Damon…" but there are lips on the back of Alaric's neck, making it hard to protest very strongly, and Damon is getting warmer. He does that, when he's turned on, warms to human, a little warmer, even, and it makes Alaric's head swim, knowing he's the one who affects Damon like this.

"C'mon, Ric. You deserve a break." Alaric feels his eyes drift shut, his head roll forward and to the side as Damon kisses and licks up the side of his neck, but when Damon continues undoing buttons, Alaric tries to rouse himself.

"No. I mean it. I'm never gonna get these finished. I've barely even started." He pushes Damon away half-heartedly. "I'll call you when I'm done. 'kay? Go."

Damon is a lot stronger than Alaric, and turns the chair around suddenly, straddling Alaric's thighs. "I'm not sure you're sufficiently motivated to work quickly. What if I give you a taste of what you'll be missing out on?" Damon grips Alaric's hair, forcing his head back, kissing the length of his throat, mouthing his way across Alaric's jaw.

"Believe me, Damon," Alaric says, feeling his cock harden against Damon's leg. "The teenagers of Mystic Falls are a dull lot, for the most part -" he groans, as Damon's hand begins to rub and knead at the rapidly growing bulge in Alaric's pants. "I don't want to spend any more time on these than I…"

Damon shuts him up very effectively, taking Alaric's bottom lip in his mouth and sucking so hard Alaric's vision blurs. "Oh, fuck it. Motivate me."

Damon chuckles into Alaric's mouth. "Say please."

"This was your idea. Not mine." Alaric moans as Damon expertly unbuckles his belt and trousers, freeing his erection, pulling in long, slow tugs.

"True enough," Damon agrees, climbing off Alaric's lap, kneeling between his legs. Alaric moans again as Damon seals his mouth over Alaric's cock, wraps his tongue around the head.

Alaric finds his hand drifting towards Damon's head, tangling his fingers in the silky hair, anchoring him in place, while Damon runs his hands over Alaric's thighs and ass, promising more exciting adventures whenever Alaric gets the hell out of here.

(A hundred and seventy years to refine his technique, and vampires don't have to come up for air. Not for the first time, Alaric thanks his lucky stars he and Damon hadn't managed to kill each other when Alaric first came to Mystic Falls.)

The urge to thrust up into Damon's mouth is overwhelming, and Damon seems to sense it. Without shifting his mouth, he exerts a little pressure onto Alaric's thighs, holding him in place, and Alaric feels Damon chuckle, just a little, as he mouths up and down the shaft, pausing at times to run his tongue around the straining, leaking head, until Alaric is squirming, muttering unintelligibly, seconds from orgasm.

And there it is. Alaric feels his balls tighten and swell, and he's coming in rapid jets into Damon's hot, eager mouth.

Damon drinks him down like it's the best thing he's ever tasted, and as Alaric's erection subsides to half-mast, Damon pulls off with a reluctant, wet sound. For a moment, Alaric can do nothing, just shudders where he sits, and when he finally opens his eyes again, he feels dizzy and weak. Damon quirks his lip into a grin as Alaric fumbles his dick back into his pants, zipping and buttoning.

"Sufficiently motivated?" Damon asks, cocking his chin fondly.

Alaric takes in Damon's aquiline features, cool, clear eyes, swollen lips. Pale skin. He gives Damon a considered look, and grins, shaking his head. "So much so that these can wait until tomorrow."

With another chuckle, Damon rises to his feet and offers Alaric his hand. "I'd better drive," he says. Alaric stands up, almost swaying, and can't disagree.

Damon gives him an odd look. "What?" Alaric asks. The vampire can be inscrutable.

Damon shakes his head, and leans in for a soft kiss, deepening it briefly, landing a hand on Alaric's hip and giving a quick squeeze before grabbing the thermos. "Nothing," he says. "It's just nice to be appreciated. Your place or mine?"


End file.
